


Mime

by riapariome



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Angst, Drug Abuse, Emotions, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-04-05 01:10:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14032866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riapariome/pseuds/riapariome
Summary: Best way to start off a Monday: get stuck in an elevator with a mime.





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: An Encounter With a Mime**

* * *

 

mime /mīm/: the theatrical technique of suggesting action, character, or emotion without words, using only gesture, expression, and movement.

hurt \ ˈhərt \ to suffer pain or grief

* * *

She was stuck in the elevator with a mime.

Again.

To be honest, Pan didn’t know what she had to do to avoid him. It seemed as if he was there everywhere she turned, enclosing her in a confinement sure to drive her to the brink of insanity. As of late, his favourite place to respawn was the elevator that conveniently took a good 3 minutes to make its one way trip from the 50th floor to the 200th floor.

He wasn’t a mime per se, but as far as she was concerned, he was just as creepy. He seemed to live in his own little world, trapped by his air of absolute pretentiousness. He graced every room with a presence that just screamed ‘total and complete asshole’ with a sprinkle of ‘holier-than-thou.’ Just as a senseless mime would, his very existence drew people in like maggots. Engrossed in his farce, women and men alike flocked to him, fawning over him like he was the new Adonis. She couldn’t understand how they didn’t see him for the piece of shit he was. To say that he annoyed Pan would be an understatement. He was the bane of her existence; the water to her oil, the fire to her gasoline, the Loki to her Thor. He was Trunks Briefs, and he was standing right next to her.

* * *

Monday mornings were not his favourites. They involved countless meeting with some of the most poisonous people in existence- the board of directors. The majority of them were so greedy and power-hungry with no care for his grandfather’s legacy; a legacy that he fought and worked to the bone for. It disgusted him to no end. The money-laundering pigs did little to progress the company but as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t blast them into the next universe. Their years of experience and influence allowed them plenty of time to accrue a fair portion of shares in Capsule Corps.

If he hadn’t held a firm grip on his position and the company, they would have had their way the second Bulma stepped down. It was for that reason that he and Goten, his best friend and chief strategist, decided to work on a way to dismantle the parasite that was the board of directors. It had been six months of arduous work and late nights filled with coffee runs and takeout binges. Trunks was quite stressed, to say the least. As of late, it was the only thing on his mind, weaving its way through every second of every moment of his life.

Until he saw her on the elevator for the first time.

Goten had told him he hired a ‘freelancer of sorts’ to help them with their ‘project’ but he’d been so engrossed in his work that the arrival of a new employee took him completely by surprise. He didn’t even remember looking at her resume until he found it his desk that same day. Nevertheless, he began to enjoy having Pan back in his life. To him, her presence was oddly comforting. Seeing her in Goten’s office after all those years stirred emotions in his very being that had long been lost to him. Memories of pain and hurt they’d caused each other invaded his very psyche. The feelings he had shut out were now so foreign to him, yet still so familiar. She brought something out of him that one could not imagine to begin to describe in words. She filled him with a rage that was quickly quelled by something he could not name- it balanced him, completed him, yet it frightened him.

So needless to say, his day _automatically_ got better and even more complicated as he entered the elevator to find his dark haired adversary frantically pressing the ‘close door’ button. She captivated him in every sense of the word. She was beautiful, but he would never admit it to anyone. If she was beautiful then, now she had truly blossomed. Gone were the filthy, cropped, oversized smocks of her youth (she called them overalls,) replaced today by a cream blouse tucked into a pleated lavender skirt that hit just below the knees. The wild ebony curls she once hid under her orange bandana were now pulled into a neat chignon, with a few disobedient members peeping out from the sides. A pair of emerald heels lifted her up, giving her the boost she needed to reach an even height of 5 feet and 5 inches. She was gorgeous- but who’s to say he was looking?

The elevator doors closed and the monitor in the top right side of the elevator began counting the floors as they began their ascent to the 200th floor. Trunks grinned as he leaned on the back wall, his hands in his pockets, “Well, well, well- What do we have here? If it isn’t Satan herself coming here to grace us with her presence?” he said coolly.

Tightening the grip on the chain of her purse, Pan stood their silently, her eyes on the monitor as 75 flashed momentarily. For once, she wished that the elevator would stop at some random floor- she would have gladly taken the stairs if it meant not seeing him.

“Ooh, cat got your tongue now?” he taunted, “Don’t tell me Miss Son is too afraid to bite back?”

She rolled her eyes at his lame attempt to get on her nerves- not to say it didn’t work. There wasn’t much he could do that didn’t piss her off and breathing was on the top of that. Catching her words, she continued to ignore him. {He’s not worth it, not today}

“Lost in your thoughts eh? Surprising, I didn’t think you had anything up there. Otherwise, why would you ignore your old pal?”

Turning to face him, she gave him a sickeningly sweet smile that chilled his blood. “Excuse me sir, but who are you exactly?” she asked, feigning innocence. Taken aback by this, Trunks stood up straight to make a comeback but Pan acted first.

“Sir, I would appreciate if you would refrain from insulting me again. I would hate for an intern like you go and lose the one and only chance he has at being anything in life. So why don’t you scurry off to your little rat’s nest and try to not fuck up.” She smiled inwardly, as she looked in her hand mirror to fix the curls popping out.

“Intern?” He walked up, his chest pressed to her back. The elevator dinged- they’d reached the 50th floor. “Well, this intern has a lot to learn- doesn’t he?”

Time seemed to stop as he leaned in. Pan didn’t expect this reaction from him at all. His lips, now a breath away from her ears, beckoned her to turn around and join them with her own. In her embarrassment, she turned her head the other way. He smirked, grabbing her waist and pulling her closer, “Well, why don’t you teach me?”

*ding* the 100th floor

Trunks expected her to turn her head away. He expected her to push him away, smack him a little- a punch even. What he didn’t expect was for her to spit at him, hitting him dead center in the eye.

“What the fuck, Pan?!! That’s disgusting!” he yelled, pulling away. Who the hell did she think she was, spitting in his eye like that! Never did he expect Pan to do such a childish thing. A punch in the face, sure—he expected that from the former warrior.

“What the fuck? You have the balls to say that after what you just did?” She said in disbelief. “You know, I can sue you for sexual assault, you filthy pig.”

“Sue me for-! You hocked a loogie in my eye, Pan! It was just a friggin’ joke!” “Yeah, you asswipe- I spat in your fucking eye! Honestly, you’ve always been like this. You haven’t changed one bit. Get a life!”

“Always been like what?” he challenged, facing her with one hand covering an eye.

“Like this- childish, lecherous, pretentious, selfish, ignorant, nasty!”

*ding* 150th floor

“Oh, like you were the perfect angel back then. And I see you’ve finally hit the books, your vocabulary is simply astounding,” he replied sarcastically.

“Bitch, please- I was better than you any day. You were the one chasing after skirts instead of listening when your mommy told you to grow up. I had a brain and I used it, Trunks- something your sniveling ass could never dream of.” She said, crossing her arms.

Trunks rolled his eyes at her and her excuse for an insult. He knew deep down that her words held some truth but he wasn’t about to let her know that.

“I wasn't born with enough middle fingers to let you know how I feel about you!”

“You weren’t born with enough brain cells to make a good insult!” She said menacingly.

“Is your ass jealous of the amount of shit that just came out of your mouth?” He walked up towards her, his arms mimicking hers.

“You know, I’m thinking about it now- you’re just jealous I didn’t notice you,” she said mockingly.

“So, a thought crossed your mind? Must have been a _long_ and lonely journey.” He countered.

“Keep talking, someday you'll say something intelligent!"

"Aww, are you worried about my mental wellbeing?" Trunks asked, feigning ignorance.

“If I wanted to kill myself I'd climb your ego and jump to your IQ.” She said, clenching her fists.

“Well, fuck off!”

“Fuck you!”

*ding* 200th floor

The doors opened swiftly, as if to usher the bickering couple out. They two were centimeters apart, their faces red and the tension thick. Pan was the first to leave, her face flushed with anger and embarrassment. Things seemed to halt on the floor as people slowed down their work pace to observe what was going on between the CEO and the infuriated woman who had just stormed out.

To be honest, the narrator cannot describe the 200th floor in amazing detail. It was a large floor, filled with important people, doing important things and such. The windows extended from the floor to the ceilings, bringing tons of light into the dreary setting. It was divided into multiple offices, the two largest belonging to Trunks and Goten. The rest of the space was dedicated to the higher ranked employees who were in charge of the more sensitive matters. It wasn’t interesting at all-- not a place for drama and nonsense. People were uptight and bossy: obsessed with their work and only concerned with getting shit done. But they were people, nevertheless, and people by nature are curious beings. For them to see their CEO with an interesting someone, especially a woman in an elevator alone—well, that was enough to spark their curiosity.

Not much was known about Trunks to those working in the company. He kept to himself and focused on his work. The employees of Capsule Corps relied on one thing—the gossip magazines. It was their only source of information on the mysterious purple haired individual and boy was it juicy. He had a reputation with women and though it had never reached the office, they knew all about his ‘racy endeavors’. Almost every employee was well versed in the subject of his flings and the lack of permanent relationships.

So to see him with a woman in a... compromising situation that proves they were clearly involved raised red flags among those present. They watched as Pan marched off, Trunks shot on her tail. All seemed to stop as the scene before them unfolded. Trunks, noticing the many pairs of eyes now focused on them stopped to turn to them. Almost immediately, all the employees rushed back to their work, pretending to be engrossed by the papers in front of them.

Trunks scoffed,  _Like children_. They were so obvious.

Shaking his head, Trunks slowly retreated back to his office. He watched as Pan headed towards Goten’s office. Trunks rolled his eyes, knowing very well that she would yell Goten’s ear off about how insufferable his best friend was. Maybe she had won this battle, but he hadn’t lost yet—he had only begun.


	2. Not That Easy

Goten came to work that morning expecting a busy day filled with meetings, and boring debriefings and such. Of course, someone would complain to him about the ineffectiveness of the meeting, and how Trunks was inept. Another would burst in with threats of leaving the company, and yet another would come with news that another investor was pulling out. On top of that, he knew he had to work on dismantling the parasitic board of directors. So he definitely did not have time to deal with his childish best friend, and short-tempered niece.

Except, every morning, it was the same thing—either Pan or Trunks would storm in angrily, complaining to him about the other’s antics instead of doing their work. Goten sighed as he saw Pan from across the floor. He had never asked for this much stress. He had hoped to live a ‘regular shmegular life’ with a ‘regular shmegular job’, marry a babe with killer cooking skills, and have a few kids. He’d train his kids to become powerful Saiyan warriors, and eat as much as he desired until he died peacefully in his sleep. But life wasn’t easy—it wasn’t merciful either. One would think with the childhood he had, that his adult life would be a breeze. He would have rather fought 16 Majin Buus then to deal with the craziness that was his family

It wasn’t that he didn’t love his job—he loved being able to work with his best friend, to make a more than decent salary and have time to relax (jokes). He and Trunks made a great team, their dynamic was first to none. Contrary to popular belief, the gears were working in Goten’s mind.  Strategies were once Trunks’ thing when they were kids, but he had a mind of his own. He knew how to work around a situation and he did his job well.

But things were getting complicated, and the workload just seemed to be growing bigger and bigger. He knew he needed to get someone on board to help them, but there wasn’t anyone he could trust to do the job— except for his niece.

Pan was a business process consultant, and one of the best in Goten’s opinion. She worked primarily overseas and this was her first time back home in years. To be honest, Goten always wanted to ask her why she avoided working in one of the nearby cities. No one would tell him, even though he had a good idea why she left. But it was a different thing for him to hear it from her. Assumptions, coincidences, and correlations never told the whole story. It bugged him that his own niece didn’t feel comfortable enough to tell him without asking, but he left the situation as it was, and continued on with his life as she began to build her career.

He didn’t want to ask her to help him. It was his last resort. She and Trunks had an intense hatred for each other—one he could never understand— and he knew it would be hell to have them work together. But for their plan to work, they needed someone strong on their team, someone inconspicuous, and she fit the bill. It was this prized consultant that made her way towards his sanctuary of an office. He groaned yet again, burrowing his face in the stack of papers in front of him. In any second, she’d be ranting about Trunks and his stupidity, and chaos would ensue for the rest of the day.

So, needless to say, he wasn’t surprised when the glass doors flung open, revealing a flustered Pan, and a scowling Trunks trailing behind.

“Son Goten, if you don’t get a hold of your best friend, you’re gonna be writing a eulogy pretty soon.” She shouted as the doors cut them off from the rest of the floor. Goten rolled his eyes in exasperation at her outburst.

“What did he do this time?” He knew he shouldn’t have asked, but if she was going to tell him anyways, why not pretend he cared?

“Ooh, that scoundrel! I swear I’m gonna kill him one of these days and it isn’t gonna be my fault.  He went and called me stupid! And he _touched me_ with those disgusting hands of his. If it wasn’t for you and Bulma, I’d let this company burn. Fuck him!” she yelled, throwing her bag on Goten’s overcrowded desk.

“I don’t think my _new_ _secretary_ should storm into my office screaming like that. People might start making assumptions Pan.” Goten commented, not looking once from the papers on his desk that suddenly became interesting. “Remember, they don’t know you here. You ain’t a hotshot consultant in West City—they can’t know what you’re here for.”

“And I have to be **_your secretary_**?!! How outrageous! Ooh I could just-!“ she shouted, balling her hands into fists.

Goten liked to think that Pan’s hair was in tune with her emotions. When she was sad, it was limp and lifeless, and when she was happy, her curls would pop and shine. But when she was annoyed, well, that was a sight to see. No matter how slick the style or how neat it came out, the minute Pan got irked, it would double in size and turn into a massive ball of frizz. He looked at his niece in awe, as her once perfect chignon self-destructed in a matter of seconds. Her tanned skin was now blotchy and red, making her look feverish and frazzled. Even after Goten tuned her out, Pan was still ranting 20 minutes later—she was a mess and it wasn’t even 10 am. Shaking his head, he tapped the desk to get her attention.

“Okay Ms. Frizzle, calm down. Can we focus on important things now?” he asked with a grin on his face. She was about to yell at him for not paying attention, but conceded nonetheless.

“Goten,” Pan said, “I’m sorry I do this all the time, but he’s just- he’s such an ass!”

“Pan—board of directors—let’s get to it.”

“Okay, fine. The sooner we finish, the faster I can leave.” She kicked off her heels, getting up to grab her slippers from her designated drawer. Snatching the papers from Goten’s desk, she began her work. It was time to get to business.

“So these are the people we think are against us? What’s the evidence?” she asked as she chewed intently on the end of a pen. Goten grimaced—he hated when she did that. Pan had a habit of biting pens until they were unrecognizable, even exploding at times. { _Why does she do that? At least I didn’t turn out like that.}_ Goten knew he was a slob, yes, but at least he wasn’t a pen biter.

“Well,” he began, “these people were strongly opposed to Trunks succeeding Bulma. My best guess is that they wanted to run the company themselves, now that she is out of the picture.”

“But why wait until Bulma resigned?” Pan questioned, as she paced about the large office.

“Pan, you’re forgetting—Bulma was a powerhouse. She had all the directors under control and didn’t let them toy around with her. Capsule Corps was growing tremendously, and she knew they couldn’t take advantage of her like they did her father.” Goten explained, propping his feet on his desk.

“You’re a slob, uncle. Put your feet down.” She chided, tapping his leg with her chewed up pen. Goten ignored her, flipping through the pages in front of him.  She rolled her eyes, taking a seat on the windowsill. 

“Okay, so she had them by the balls for what, 30 years? So they expected Trunks to be a pussy? Can’t say I blame them for that.” Pan said. Goten glared at her, clearly fed up with her jokes.

“Okay, okay, no more joking around. I get what’s going on Goten.” Pan reassured. “I’m simply asking what else links them together besides the fact that they’ve tried something like this before?”

“This,” Goten said, passing the file he was examining. “If you look at the file, you’ll find the photos. The legal affairs director was seen with the director of finance and an associate from Idari.”

“Idari? Isn’t that the big investment firm?” Pan questioned, as she examined the contents.

“Yeah, and they’re using their influence to force shareholders into a buyout. They convince gullible ones that there’s a huge profit in it for them,” he explained. “All the shares will go to one person who gets it at a fraction of the cost. They will then become the majority shareholder, and take the company from our hands. The others think that the company will just see a change of hands, but instead of holding true to their end, they take the company for themselves and dissolve it. Usually they sell it so they make a greater profit. Those involved will probably get such a small percentage of the money they make that it’s hard to even see why they’d do it.”

“So just fire your seedy directors!”

“Pan, are you new to this or something? Is Region 27 that different from West City?” She rolled her eyes, thoroughly irritated with him. Shaking his head, Goten continued on. “I’ve been working with Uub, and I found out that the associate you see here was the son of Professor Brief’s rival. He wishes to destroy Capsule Corps for good, to finish the job his father couldn’t. His brother is the CEO of the firm and they’re known for their cruelty in their business transactions.”

“So why are they getting involved with them in the first place if so much is known about them?” she questioned, visibly vexed with the situation at hand.

“Simple,” he began, staring intently at his clueless sister.

“They want to see Capsule Corps fall. At any cost.”

…..........

It wasn’t even noon, and Trunks was drowning in work. Another phone call, another meeting, another secretary from Kami-knows-where trying to hit on him. All he wanted to do at that moment was tear off the suffocating device they called a tie and break free through the windows. But he wasn’t 22 anymore, and he wasn’t working under his mother. To say that he missed having her in charge was an understatement. The senior executives never took him seriously. They thought he was young, immature—stupid. His mother had ruled with an iron fist, but next to her, his presence paled in comparison.

For instance, at that very moment as he sat in his chair debating the consequences of his great escape, in came in the director of legal affairs. Trunks hated the overstuffed buffoon. He belonged more on a table with an apple in his mouth than in Capsule Corps. The director’s face was red and splotchy, as if he had just run a marathon, while in fact, it was a short walk from the elevator. He donned the most atrocious suit: a most delightful shade of barf green and _the perfect size._ Trunks covered his face with his papers, fighting the urge not to laugh. The director hated him enough as it was. He didn’t need to add anything else to his list of complaints.

“Mr. Briefs,” the director interrupted, his breaths shallow as he began to cool off. “In regards to the last meeting-“

“Yes, Director Fitzherbert. I understand you don’t see the point of allocating the excess funds to different branches. I just don’t see the point of your plan.”

Trunks scoffed, he knew exactly what the director wanted to do with the excess funds. Director Fitzherbert—or Fat-pervert, as Trunks liked to call him—only wanted the money to go towards a bonus for the directors. Trunks knew many of the directors wished to line their own pockets before they sold off Capsule Corps to the highest bidder. Fat-pervert seemed to be at the head of the whole operation, obstructing the company’s growth in any way possible. It was hard having a director of finance who cared not for the company, but it was so much harder to fire a director who had so much influence both inside, and outside of Capsule Corps.

“But why should we deviate from what we’ve been doing? It’s working, is it not? We should be content with the success of Capsule Corps and reward those who worked hard this year. Why go into something so high in risk? Investing in a new market?!! Preposterous, we’d just be putting ourselves at a greater chance of losing money!” Fitzherbert argued, slamming his fist on Trunk’s desk. Trunks grimaced, he hated when they stormed in just to slam his poor desk. What did it ever do to them?

“But Director Fats- _Fitz_ herbert, I believe the plan I have drafted with some of the other board members would strengthen the company. If only we could have your support, it would greatly benefit Capsule Corps and secure its future.” Trunks argued.

“I won’t have it, Mr. Briefs,” he continued angrily. “It puts our company at a liability, and it’s too risky. This isn’t the last you’ll hear of this. Be ready—if you continue to push for increased risk you might find yourself without a company to play house in.” The director marched off, patently enraged at Trunks’ insistence to oppose him.

“I mean, if we’d invested in the company that makes your suit’s buttons we could be filthy rich. Those things are durable as hell.” Trunks said to himself as he sifted through the papers in front of him.

“I’m sorry, what was that _Mr. Briefs?_ ” the director sneered as he turned around. Trunks looked up, feigning innocence.  Those peach colored buttons were true warriors. The fabric seemed ready to give way any second, but the buttons stayed fast. { _I really should look into that—the fabric too}_ he thought. Waving the overgrown toad off, he dismissed him from his office. His secretary was already at the door, waiting to escort the director to his next destination.

Trunks sighed in relief. The encounter was brief but no doubt stressful. It made it all the more obvious that they needed to act fast.

But how the hell was he supposed to fix the problem? He couldn’t collect the dragon balls and wish them all away—though a very tempting idea, with much less stress involved. But he had to prove to himself that he was capable of overcoming the obstacles ahead of him. He wanted to show everyone (but most importantly himself) that he wasn’t just a product of nepotism, and that he was a good CEO. He pushed back his chair, tapping his pen on his chin. How was he going to stop the directors from destroying the company?

To be honest, he didn’t know if he could.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOh peep that little Bridget Jones' Diary reference!


	3. The Weekend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I can't even afford a coffee nowadays, you expect me to own DBZ? Well I don't. *I wish I did, smh*

**Chapter Three: The Weekend**

It had been 3 months since Pan started working as ‘Goten’s secretary’. It wasn’t a bad job: she had a decent salary and she got to spend time with one of her favorite most hated people on earth (if that made any sense—it didn’t make any sense to her anyways.) She didn’t see much of _him_ after the elevator incident. Business did as business does and got very busy. From her view across the hall, she saw him day in and out trapped in his office. She wondered if he ever moved from his position because he was simply buried in work. It was enough to handle a company the size of Capsule Corps, and to work on dismantling corruption at the same time? Well it was crazy!

Not that she felt bad for him. Or anything.

But finally, it was the weekend—her first free weekend in _weeks_! As Pan headed home from her long day at work, she began to plan all the things she would do for the next three days. Her excitement was unparalleled, like a child awaiting gifts from Saint Nicholas. She had plans for a night out with the girls and she couldn’t wait to hit the town. So naturally, the minute she turned the keys, Pan knocked out on her bed and proceeded to sleep for the weeks she had missed.

She woke up around 3 in the morning. The city outside was still bustling, with cars honking and people screaming. She scowled as the rowdy group on the curb got louder and louder. The window was closed, for Kami’s sake! How did she hear it so clearly in her apartment? Covering her head with a pillow did nothing to lessen the disturbance, so she begrudgingly got out of her comfy bed. Oh, how she wished she could go back to her life in Canada! She could sleep through the night without the incessant distractions but she was still acclimating to West City.  It had been so long since she lived the big city life that everything was foreign to her.

Pan glanced at her phone- 16 missed calls. Bra was going to wring her neck later on. She had forgotten entirely about her promise to go hang out with Bra and Marron. She grimaced as she realized she still had the clothes on from earlier in the day. She _hated_ wearing her outside clothes, especially on her bed. _{Gotta change those sheets later,}_ she thought, making a mental note for herself. She was a neat freak of sorts, living in her own organized chaos. Pan appreciated a clean room, even though her own remained in constant disarray. There was always a lamp on the floor, mismatched slippers and empty tissue boxes littered across—but her bed was her sanctuary.

It seemed out of place in the disheveled room. It was a queen bed frame fitted with a tall, plush mattress. Her comforters were pristine: always clean and fluffy, and always neatly arranged. She prided herself in keeping her bed in perfect condition. It was the only thing she could really control in her life. Her job was unpredictable and her family was the definition of strange and the rest of her life was just as crazy as her apartment. Though Pan loved the life she made for herself, she couldn’t help but wish for a little more simplicity.

She peeled off her work clothes and tossed it in the laundry bin in the corner of her room. She slipped on a robe and grabbing a fresh towel, she hopped into the shower and turned on the water. It would take a while before it was hot so Pan decided she would start her weekend with a little late night pampering. She was going to shave her legs, exfoliate her body and use her favorite smell goods! Pan was already giddy at the thought of slipping into fresh sheets with a freshly pampered self. She worked her ass off day and night—she deserved it!

Showers were the best place to think, but thinking was the last thing on her mind. Because if Pan let herself think, her mind would wander to a certain purple haired asshole she shared a workspace with. Stepping into the shower, she let the warm water cascade over her body. She began to work on her pamper session, grabbing her exfoliant and rubbing it all over her body

Pan never thought she would see Trunks again in her life. Well, not _never_ , but for a good period of time—not 5 years! And definitely not while working for him! The very thought of Trunks made her blood boil! She scowled as she switched her products to shave her legs. Granted, she didn’t always hate him. They were good friends at one point, best friends even. Growing up, they were inseparable, despite their difference in age.

But what had changed?

What had driven the two so far apart? Her heart ached, her chest heavy with regret. Not a day passed by that she didn’t remember what had happened, no matter how hard she tried to forget. Being back didn’t help at all, it made is worse. _{Obviously, Pan,}_ she thought. _{Did you think it was going to be flowers and sprinkles?}_ The warm water made its way through her hair, slowly soothing her pains as it took away the suds and conditioner.

Could they ever be the same?

Stepping out of the shower, Pan wrapped herself in her towel and proceeded to work on her hair. She used to hate her curly hair growing up. It was disobedient and had a mind of its own. She constantly was made fun of at school. Kids were mean and loved pointing out differences in people. Pan was the crazy strong girl with the outrageous curls and terrible temper. Boys were scared of her and girls were cruel in their incessant jabs. Her grandfather wasn’t the most observant person out there, but he knew when something was up with his granddaughter. It was he who had given her the orange bandana made from her gi to hold back her mane. _You’re a warrior, Pan. A Saiyan warrior. Always remember that. To embrace your qualities and to make your weaknesses your strengths: that’s what makes a warrior great. And Saiyan warriors hold their beauty in a different way. Don’t fall into the nonsense these girls are talking about—you’re gorgeous no matter what. Hey, at least you don’t have my hair. Now that would be tragic!_

It was those words that carried her through her childhood. They gave her a new strength, a new determination. She was going to be the strongest warrior possible, and she wasn’t going to let anyone get in the way of her goal.

Anyone but herself.

Funny how the demons inside are uglier than the ones you see outside.

She looked outside the window to see the sky beginning to open its eyes. The sun had not yet risen completely, but far into the horizon, one could see the faint outline of the star. In her bathroom, the clock’s hands pointed to five- she used to train at this time years before. Lightly squeezing her arms, she sighed in disappointment. She had really let herself go. Why did she ever stop what she had loved so much?

Growing up, Pan hated how her father disapproved of her training. He used to be the strongest in their side of the universe, for Kami’s sake! Everyone went on about the stories of his immense strength and power, but Pan saw none of it. If it was ever there, he had wasted it all. Her father was attached to his books and gave little care for anything else. As much as he would deny it, Gohan was the mirror image of his mother. Education was the most important thing for him. He entertained Pan in the idea of training her, but after a few years he refused to continue her lessons.

_“Pan, it’s a distraction! You need to stop sneaking out to train! How will you ever pass your exams if you don’t study?!”_ _Gohan yelled_

_The 12 year old rolled her eyes, her father didn’t want her to be a weakling like Trunks, right? “Dad, what do you mean, of course I’ll study! But you gotta let me train, you just gotta! It’s not fair! What if something bad happens? How are we gonna fight against it?” she argued stubbornly._

_*SMACK*_

_Pan clutched her cheek, tears quickly forming in her eyes. Did- did her father just slap her?_

_“Pan, I will **not** hear that excuse. We are fine. There is nothing to be afraid of. You want to waste your time training for some imaginary threat—fine by me. But when you realize your mistake, it’ll be too late.” He warned, turning to leave the room. The door slammed shut and with it the echo of his father’s words. _

It was Vegeta who saw the girl’s potential. He insisted that he was bored and needed a punching bag, but everyone knew it was because he had a soft spot in his heart for Pan. He would never admit it, but amongst them all, she had the most Saiyan spirit. He trained her every day for years alongside his own children, refining her talent and honing her abilities. She became the finest fighting machine, a product of his own making, and Pan was eternally grateful for her sensei.

Maybe he deserved a visit.

She rummaged through her closet to find the one thing she was looking for—her workout gear. She admired her physique in the full length mirror that stood in her room. She still looked good. The black sleeveless spandex top fit just as she remembered. Granted, she had a little more pudge than she used to, but she appreciated the curves she had gained. The black leggings accentuated every muscle. Her calves were as toned as ever, that part of her never changed. Her body was ready for a good sparring session, no matter how out of practice she was.

It was late enough for her to catch the next bus to Capsule Corps, but it was still dark enough outside for her to sneak out unnoticed. Standing at the edge of her balcony with a bag in hand, Pan breathed in the cool morning air. Her nerves tingled with excitement as her ki radiated through her body, centering itself at the soles of her feet. It pushed her up hesitantly, testing the now unfamiliar waters. It had been so long since she had last flown anywhere. Her years in Canada had forced her into adopting a more mundane lifestyle. But now she was home, she was free; she could train, she could fly.

And so she did.

…..

Pan arrived at Capsule Corps a few minutes later, landing in the secluded garden towards the back of the compound. Knowing her sensei, he probably sensed her ki and was anticipating her arrival. She made her way through the lush greenery to the large metal dome that buzzed with fervor. She was right—he still trained at the same time. Grabbing an apple from a nearby tree, she wiped it off on her shirt and bit into it as she walked up to the gravity room. The panel on the side of the flashed yellow, signaling that the gravity simulator was engaged. Pressing the red button at the bottom of the panel, Pan temporarily disabled the gravity. She could hear the obscene string of curses from within. It caused her heart to swell with happiness—she was finally going to train with her sensei after all these years! The doors opened to reveal the said disgruntled man. Behind him, Pan could see the obliterated training bots littered across the floor. She chuckled inwardly: Bulma must have had a hard time keeping up with an adequate amount of training supplies for the Saiyan prince. She looked up at him with the characteristic Son grin plastered on her face.

“I’m ba-”she started, quickly cut off by the annoyed man in front of her.

“Hey brat, save the sweet talk for someone who gives a shit. You, gravity room, _now_.” He growled, stomping into the vast room. Vegeta didn’t need to turn around to still see the stupid grin on her face and Pan didn’t need to see his face to know he was smiling too.

Pan knew she was out of shape, but she didn’t know she was _this_ bad. It had been almost 2 hours of non-stop sparring and she was ready to drop. Her legs were wobbly and she breathing was ragged. Sweat dripped all over her body and she was sure that if her gear was in any other color, it would all show. Vegeta, on the other hand, looked as bored as ever. To be honest, the fact that she couldn’t keep up with him slightly disappointed him. His protégée had let herself go, and for what?  He couldn’t understand certain people, and Pan was one of them. She had such faith in humanity that she couldn’t realize it was taking her away from herself. He barely recognized the woman before him. She could hardly breathe and her face was as red as a tomato. He sighed, turning down the gravity from 300 G to a calm 5 G. Almost immediately, Pan released a breath she had not known she was holding in. The pressure of the gravity was gone, but it was replaced by another—guilt. She knew she had disappointed Vegeta. Heck, she disappointed herself! She never would have thought two hours of sparring would tire her out that easily! She watched as the room slowly normalized to Earth’s gravity. Vegeta pressed the button to release the doors that connected to the main house. Outside in the hallway were two cleaning bots, one to provide a towel for Vegeta and the other to repair the mess he left behind.

He turned to the demi Saiyan and placed a hand on her shoulder “Oi, get your lazy ass up and get the hell out of my GR.” He ordered. Pan rolled her eyes. She wasn’t about to throw in the towel—she knew she had more in her. 

“No,” she said breathlessly, “No, seriously Vegeta: I’m fine. L-Let’s just go for another round, I can do it, I’m not gonna give up!”

Vegeta sighed. There was something about that brat that annoyed him to no end. She was like a stubborn insect that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard you tried to repel it. Her fighting spirit, her Saiyan spirit: she never gave in when she fought. He respected her greatly for that alone.  She fought hard, no matter how great the obstacle. If only she applied that mentality outside of training; she’d be better off than she was now. Shaking his head he extended his hand out to her. “Listen you insufferable nitwit, you’re wasting my time. Now get up right this instant before I blast your ass into the next dimension!”

She glared at him with a ferocity that chilled his blood. Pan hated when people saw her as a weakling. But she had to be honest with herself: Vegeta was right. As much as she hated admitting it, she could feel her body giving in to the stress of her efforts. It had been 4 years since she last trained and to start off at 300 G—the pressure she would endure in her warm ups before—was too much. Reluctantly, she took his hand and got up from the cold flooring. The stench of sweat overwhelmed her senses: she really did need that shower.

By the time she finished taking a shower, the sun had risen and the city had begun to awake. Pan frowned. They had only trained for an hour—it felt like it was so much more! She made her way down the stairs, unraveling the towel turban. The smell of breakfast greeted her from the top of the stairs. Her stomach growled in reply, coaxing her to hurry to the kitchen.

“Mmmh, eggs, bacon, french toast—and is that _fresh mango_ I smell?” she said, tousling her curls with her towel. “Vegeta, you really outdid yourself! Your favorite student has only been gone a few years you know—“

To her surprise—if Vegeta cooking wasn’t a surprise enough—the man of the hour was not her dear sensei, but his son. She froze in her tracks, her dripping hair long forgotten. Why her heart was pounding, she couldn’t say. She seemed to forget all her words in that very moment. It wasn’t until he broke the silence, his words careful with a hint of sarcasm.

“ _Good morning_ **_sunshine_**.”

Why he woke up in his parents’ house, he couldn’t say. He usually avoided that place like hellfire. Bulla was one to harass him about his recent tabloid scandal and his mother wasn’t afraid to put in her two *very cruel* cents. His father would barely acknowledge him unless it was for a quick spar. It wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it. He had dropped off the face of the earth for a whole year before anyone had heard from him.  When he came back drunk and disheveled, his mother had cried for three days straight. She forced him to clean up his act and reassume his position at Capsule Corps.  His days were spent at work and his nights were accompanied by bottles of liquor.

Last night was different. He had left work at around two in the morning. He had been working nonstop for a week and it was the first day he had left after 3 days holed up in the office. Tired could not even describe the fatigue that infiltrated every part of his body. Still, he decided to take his car and drive his way home. Without thinking, he found himself at his parents’ house. Too exhausted to make his way to his apartment, he decided to take a nap in his old bedroom to leave before anyone realized he was there. His little nap turned into a full night’s rest and he woke up the next morning to his mother throwing a towel and soap at him

“You stink!” she had told him, pinching her nose as she entered his old room. And he did—he had a shower at work, but he barely had time to shower before the executives came in. He had been slacking, he knew it was disgusting. But it was his first free weekend in months. If it wasn’t his regular workload, it was working on his project with Goten. He was thoroughly overworked and it had taken a toll on him.

It was during his shower that he felt a familiar ki rise in the building. _Pan._ He could tell she was sparring with his father—how typical of her. It brought back old memories, those he tried to repress. It reminded him of days to which he could never return to, where things were easier, lighter; more innocent. 

He knew he would run into her. She would have to take a shower and it was already morning so she couldn’t fly out in the open. Knowing her training habits, she would go down for breakfast with his father and his mother would join in later with a cup of coffee.

But today, he would be there. And he didn’t know how she would take it.

His mother had told him to make breakfast in exchange for ‘stinking up her house’. Now Trunks had planned to leave as soon as possible, but he knew his mother would never let it down. And plus—he wouldn’t dare let his mother cook for him. So he went down to the kitchen and started to prepare breakfast. The fridge was well stocked, as always. He grabbed the eggs and began to make his ‘famous scrambled eggs’ which were only famous because they tasted better than anything Bulma could whip up.  By the time he finished cooking, most of the house was awake and getting ready.

 

He sensed her ki before she saw her.

 

He looked up as he heard her voice. It was playful, lighthearted—but the joy that filled the air wasn’t meant for him. His heart ached with this realization. It would never be for him.

When she finally reached the kitchen her face was pale, writ with pain and confusion. Her dark curls, heavy with water, began to leave a puddle on the floor, the towel in her hand long forgotten. A heavy silence settled in the room as they stared at one another, unable to react. He decided it was best for him to break the ice, choosing his words with caution. It was easier to be ‘playful yet offensive’ than to let his heart speak the words he had longed to say.

_‘Sunshine’._

Her cheeks flushed at the mention of her former nickname. _Sunshine._ It had once been endearing but now it was like a smack in the face. Working together had done nothing to mend their broken relationship. If anything, it made things worse. They avoided each other like the plague; their conversation limited to the inane arguments that graced the floor each week. With each passing day, the tension between the two grew thicker and thicker. He knew sooner or later it would be too difficult to breathe. To exist.

To know that the one that once held his heart was so close, yet so far.

To know that her heart, once filled with undying love, was wrought with hatred.

It pained him to no end.

But what he didn’t know was that she felt the same.

Neither of them did.

 “Sunshine? Really, _Mr. Briefs_? You’re rude even outside the workplace.” She said, attempting to keep her cool. Her heart was beating rapidly, her breath uneven. Why did it have to be him of all people? Sure, it was his parents’ house but Trunks was a person who avoided his family like nobody’s business. He hated people who meddled and the Briefs were no exception.

But he was here.

And so was she.

He stared at her, eyes alit with curiosity and confusion. He was playing with her, wasn’t he? But why did his eyes tell another story?

Why was it for a second—just a second—she thought she saw a glimpse of pain?

“I wasn’t aware my _employees_ were allowed to roam freely in my parents’ home, but we all have had our fair share of surprises, now haven’t we Ms. Son?” he replied coolly.

She scowled, bending down to wrap her hair with the towel by her side. She was stuck. Was she to leave or stay? She crossed her arms, staring angrily at the man before her. If she left, she would admit defeat. But if she stayed, she would have to eat his food, and she would never let him taunt her with something as precious as food.

Vegeta walked in behind her, glancing at the two enemies. He rolled his eyes, _My own son and my protégée—never thought they were so childish_. Grabbing a tray of eggs and sausage, he smacked his son at the back of his head.

“As much as I would love to entertain you lovebirds and your little staring contest, you,” he said pointing at Pan, “Need to go see the other brat. And you, disgraceful spawn of mine, your bacon is _burning_.”

“Shit!” Trunks cursed, turning off the heat and carefully inspecting his spoiled meal. Pan seized her chance to escape and ran off to the front door to meet Bulla. Vegeta shook his head in disappointment. Those two had a long way to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: SEVEN PAGES AND OVER 4 THOUSAND WORDS?!!! It’s not my best work, but so far it’s been the hardest chapter to write. I have all these ideas for future chapters but I just couldn’t figure out how to flesh this part out. So if it’s kind of awkward and weird, I apologize, I just really wanted to get this out. I hope you enjoy, and I’d really appreciate to hear feedback from you guys!


	4. Tell Me

**Chapter Four: Tell Me**

“Oh my God, your face is so fucking red.”

Embarrassed? Pan was more than embarrassed.

“You don’t understand, I left like a coward. _A coward, Bulla!_ How am I supposed to go to work on Monday? It was so awkward~~~!” Pan said, her hands clutching her cheeks. They were very much so red, her emotions showing through. She threw herself on the tan couch, covering her face with a pillow. The blue haired demi saiyan threw her head back in laughter, a large stuffed panda in hand.

“Did my dad actually call you guys lovebirds?” Bulla said clearly enjoying her best friend’s torture.

“BULLA!”

“Okay, okay sheesh! No need to yell at me!” she defended, as she threw the panda at her friend. “Hey, I told you: I don’t know what went down between you two but working for him was the worst idea you could have went along with.”

“I know!!!” Pan said, exasperated. She shifted her head, propping her head on her hand.

Bulla sighed, shifting her position on the sofa opposite Pan’s. It had been years since she had actually seen her best friend and too much had passed since then.  They were different.

Pan was different.

“Pan,” she called out softly. The dark haired girl slowly lifted her head in response. “Pan, what happened to you?”

Bulla had never gotten a proper explanation, even after all those years. She was the only one Pan had talked to. In the eight years she had spent exploring the world, exploring herself, not once did she call her family and not once did she tell Bulla why she left. If Goten hadn’t begged her to give him Pan’s number, Bulla doubted she would have ever come back.

So why now?

Pan sat up, crossing her legs on the couch as she began picking at her nails.

First the nail picking. Then the biting. Then the fidgeting. Then the scratching. Then the scratching would draw blood. Then she’d start the pacing. After the pacing came the cigarettes. Bulla’s face fell, her heart filing with dread.

Anxiety.

Bulla knew her better than anyone.

Pan picked up smoking when things overwhelmed her. She had done this already when she was trying to find a job. She did it when she was with Trunks. When her father abandoned her. It soothed her but Bulla hated it. She hated the smell, she hated the fact that her friend needed to latch on to something to keep herself sane. She hated the fact that Kami let bad things happen to good people.

“Pan,” she insisted.

“Bulla, I don’t want to talk about it,” Pan said abruptly. Her chest was heavy: it was getting harder to breathe. Without thinking, she began to scratch at her arm, her tan skin slowly turning red.

“Pan, you can’t avoid this forever. I want to help you, please!” Bulla pleaded, her eyes filling with tears.

“I-I need a smoke.” She said, her voice wavering. Bulla shook her head.

“No, Pan you don’t.”

“N-n-no, I need it. I need it. I need it. I n-need—” the dark haired woman repeated, her leg bouncing uncontrollably.

This wasn’t her Pan. Bulla knew that. The old Pan was gone long ago.

It just hurt to see how much had changed.

“Oh Pan, what did he do to you?” Bulla said, her emotions taking her.

…

The high.

She loved the high.

Drugs, sex, and alcohol: they were her vice.

He was her vice.

And she couldn’t live without them.

They brought her from the depths of her darkness, lifted her to heights she couldn’t imagine.

Was it joy?

What was that like? She had forgotten what it was like to be happy. She had forgotten what it was like to have that light in her life.  That warm, tingly sensation that spread from her chest to every extremity. She felt _good_.  And when that would wear off, he was there to bring her back.

They were explosive.

His very touch was like fire on her cool skin. It ignited in her a passion so deep nothing could match. His dark passion was magnetic and her need drew him in like a predator to his prey. They didn’t make love. They fucked. And it was good.

Maybe it was the lack of attachments that made it better. The fact that they both used each other for the same thing—without any expectations—it was that that brought them together.

_We could have been so good together._

But now she was lost. Because he knew. Because he didn’t care.

…

The air was still, the tension high. Bulla knew she had struck a chord. She began to panic, afraid that she had caused Pan to shut off completely from her. She got up and walked to her. Bending down in front of her best friend, she placed a hand on her knee.

“Pan,” she whispered, “Pan I’m sorry, I know I went too far. It’s not my place to ask you anything about him. But I almost lost my best friend and I don’t know when I’m gonna lose you again.

“You’re hurt, I know. But you haven’t told anyone why. And keeping these problems to yourself? If you don’t share your problems with me, then who am I as your best friend? Do I mean nothing to you?” Bulla questioned.

“Bulla, that’s not why—”

“No, but that’s what it is Pan! We’re supposed to share what’s hurting us. So we can get better. For fuck’s sake Pan, you always hide your pain and it kills me when my own best friend can’t trust me enough to talk to!”

The tears she had held back broke free, like water from a dam. A sob rose up and without warning, it ripped through her, pushing its way out of her throat. The walls she hadn’t even known existed came crashing down. How long had she tried to hide her feelings from Pan? How much she resented her for pushing her away? Her sobs wracked her body, evicting a pain from deep within that she had concealed for so long. Pan could do nothing but stare at her best friend as she broke down.

And Bulla was right.

She had abandoned her friend. She had resorted to doing the unimaginable instead of going to the one who was always there for her. And when she had left without even a moment’s notice? Bulla was the one who tracked her down.

She never asked Pan why she had left that whole time. Instead, she would rant day in and out about third wheeling Marron and Uub and how Chi-Chi was finally going to cut Goku’s head off. But not once did she question her motives.

Until now.

Her heart ached. She had only been thinking about herself this whole entire time. She had taken her best friend for granted and that fact alone gnawed at her soul.

 “I look stupid, don’t I?” Bulla joked, wiping away her tears with a small smile. Pan weakly reciprocated the gesture, holding her hand tightly.

“Your hair’s darker.” She noted. Bulla chuckled.

“What, this?” she questioned, running her fingers through her hair. Once a bright shade of blue like her mother’s, it had now toned down to become a deeper shade. A true royal blue befitting a Saiyan princess. “I guess it did, huh.”

“I couldn’t tell you Bulla,” Pan whispered quietly.

“I couldn’t tell you why I had to leave. Why I never called my parents. Why I did everything.” She began picking at her nails, unable to look Bulla in the eye. Bulla placed her own hands on Pan’s, a comforting gesture.

“I hated being alive, Bulla.” She said.

Those words sent chills throughout her entire being. To say Bulla was shocked was an understatement.

“The pressure was too much, it was insane. I wanted to _live_ Bulla. But he didn’t let me live. He wanted me to be everything he was and more.

“I couldn’t do that. He wanted me to live a life without any joy, any happiness. I couldn’t make any mistakes. I felt trapped. And at one point, it came down to either jumping off the bridge or a bottle of pills. And it’s not like I didn’t try to. Stupid Saiyan blood doesn’t let me go that easily.”

_{Suicide?}_ Bulla thought. Her chest tightened, emotions quickly overwhelming her. Where was she, as Pan’s so called friend, to not realize all the pain she was going through?

“So in college, remember Mikey?” She asked. Bulla nodded.

“He was the guy everyone went to, the pusher right?”

“Yeah, so he was friends with my roommate,” Pan began, “and this is when he was only dealing with weed and shit like that. Told me I should ‘loosen up’. He had just started with coke and he was sharing some with us. Bulla, that high that I felt? That rush, that euphoria? I never wanted to lose that. For the first time, I felt _alive_.  I felt like I could do anything. I felt  happy.”

“I couldn’t live up to my dad’s expectations. To everyone’s. But in that moment where I could escape, no one was judging me. But when Trunks found out?”

Pan took a deep breath, slowly exhaling to calm her nerves. “When he found out, the look on his face: it killed me. It had been a year already and at that point, him finding out was as if I had brutally murdered his parents. I was a functioning addict, if you could even call it that. I finished college and I had started medical school, all while strung out on drugs and sex. I should have been happy. I should have been stronger. But I wasn’t.”

“The whole time, I was worried that if someone found out they would tell my parents. My father’s dream of a perfect daughter with a perfect career: all that down the drain. But Trunks was actually worried _about me_. Not about how shit I was doing in school, if I was training or whether I had my life planned out for the next 100 years—someone was worried about me and it killed me.”

“And that’s why you went to him.” Bulla finished softly.  Pan hesitated at first, but then nodded, finally meeting her friend’s gaze.

“I didn’t do it because I loved him. Or even liked him. We were just two people that used each other.

“And I liked it.”

Bulla headed into the kitchen, grabbing two glasses from the cupboard. The house somber and quiet, a stark contrast from the sunny weather outside. The air was heavy and seemed to weigh her down more than any setting in the gravity room.

It had been a lot.

No one had ever told her Pan was on drugs, and it definitely had not occurred to her that it had been that long. Bulla was in New York and Pan was in California. They weren’t that far apart, especially considering who Bulla was. But as much as she tried to ignore it, the fact of the matter was that they did grow apart. No matter how hard she tried to fight it, no matter how many phone calls and plane tickets, nothing could change that. She had been selfish and only saw herself in all her years of schooling. Drowning in her work, she couldn’t look up to see that Pan was drowning in a pit of desperation. Bulla blamed herself for being so blind, for being so oblivious that she couldn’t see her best friend falling apart. That she couldn’t save her from herself.

From the day of her hospitalization to the months of rehab, everyone remained hush. Gohan distanced himself from everyone and Trunks was no better. It wasn’t as if Bulla didn’t know Pan had a problem, but it had never occurred to her it had been that bad. And to make matters worse, no one was willing to talk about it. By the time she came back home, Pan had already left and made her way out into the world, leaving no trace in sight.

So when Bulla finally found Pan in Canada, she decided against asking her questions. Placing her trust in her friend, she decided that she would wait for the day Pan was comfortable enough to tell her what had happened.

At least she had hoped.

Now here they were, six years later and finally they had spoken about it. About what had caused the rift between Pan and everyone she loved.

She had thought that Pan’s return was for good, but now?

Bulla was afraid that nothing would ever change.

She filled the two glasses with ice cold water and grabbed a bowl of watermelon she had prepared earlier. When she got back, Pan looked lost in a daze. Setting it all on the table, she stuck a fork into a piece and stuck it in Pan’s face.

“Eat it,” Bulla ordered with a small smile. Pan looked up, startled for a moment, but then relaxed. She took the fork from the blue haired demi saiyan and began to nibble at it.

“Eat like a Saiyan, are you a bird or something?” Bulla said jokingly. Pan smirked, shoving her playfully. “At least I’m not a fatass,” she countered.

“HEY—look who’s talking! You think you know a girl and then she grows an ass and she’s all snippy and shit!” Bulla complained. For a moment, they stopped and it seemed as if they were 18 again, young and innocent: ready to take on the world. And in that moment, they were brought to reality; a reality that neither of them wanted to face. But there were no greater words that could have ever been said than those shared amongst them in the silence.

_We’re gonna be okay._

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I haven’t written in ever. I’m actually ashamed of myself. This little gem has been sitting in my folder for about a year now and I’ve finally decided to write again. So I apologize if this is hard to read, my skills are a bit rusty. But I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! DISCLAIMER: I can’t even afford a coffee nowadays, you expect me to own DBZ? Well I don’t. *I wish I did, smh*   
> Also, this work was posted on FF and i decided to bring it here!


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